


All the things never said

by Sweetscribe



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Eavesdropping, Fix-It, Getting Together, John Watson Loves Sherlock Holmes, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Finale, Prompt Fill, Requited Love, Sherlock Holmes Loves John Watson, Sort Of, there's a mini fridge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-19 00:02:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16129430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweetscribe/pseuds/Sweetscribe
Summary: Prompt: Sherlock overhears John confessing his feelings for him to Rosie one night over the baby monitor that was left on in the sitting room.





	All the things never said

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anotherwellkeptsecret](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Anotherwellkeptsecret).



> I'm alive?! 
> 
> Surprise. This was unexpected, but I saw a prompt and suddenly I had the urge to write something again. It's short, un-beta'd, but I had to write this and I hope it's okay. It's been years, so I'm rusty. 
> 
> Prompt by http://anotherwellkeptsecret.tumblr.com/post/178547385054/anotherwellkeptsecret-prompt-sherlock-overhears

In truth there were many things Sherlock Holmes could spend his evening on.

He could check up on the kidney and bile experiment, that had been banished to the mini fridge John had forced him to get after he moved back to Baker Street with Rosie.

Really, getting a mini fridge for experiments was a small price to pay to have John Watson back where he always had belonged had Sherlock thought with absolutely no protest on the matter.

Another thing he could spend his evening on was updating his own blog, check the newspaper, bother Lestrade for a case, or clean up in his mind palace.

Sherlock Holmes was doing none of those things.

It was only a month since John had come back to the flat, and with him followed Rosie and all of the things a small human being comes with. Every night John took Rosie upstairs to her cot next to his bed, and made sure she was asleep before he’d come back down to the living room. Then they’d sit in silence for a couple of hours, John would maybe even turn on the television to stop silence from choking both of them, but Sherlock accepted that over the alternative of John not being there at all. Their friendship would be fixed in due time. John needed time, and Sherlock would wait. He’d always been good at that with John. John Watson was worth time and patience. Always.

Right now, John was upstairs, and Sherlock was listening to the baby monitor, the one that was propped on the arm rest of John’s chair, and the soft voice of John trying to sing lullabies and telling small stories to make his daughter sleep, were flowing into the room.

It was nice… To hear John’s voice so unguarded again, because there was still undeniable tension between them when they did speak. It was just there, below the surface, reminding them both that things weren’t the same as before. It had all changed. So hearing John talk to Rosie without any of that guard up, was almost like having John back. The John Sherlock kept in his mind palace, the John from before everything went wrong.

It was sentimental, but Sherlock had already capitulated that he was just that when it came to John. And he knew that while sentimentality was a weakness, it was also a great source of ferocity and courage. What he felt for John made him want to do better, be stronger, and do right by John more than anything else.

He was stopped in his train of thought by a sigh coming from the monitor.

“ _…I just don’t know what to say to him, Rosie. I- I think I’m making it worse._ ”

Sherlock frowned, eyes locked on the monitor. This was… new. Did John realise the monitor was on? No, he sounded earnest and… defeated? More data needed.

“ _I thought coming back would fix things, but… God, I can tell he is so careful around me, it makes me want to scream. Have I really messed up so much that he can’t even be himself around me anymore? He doesn’t argue, doesn’t protest, he even got that stupid fridge without blinking twice! He never-_ “

The sound of John’s voice breaking caused Sherlock’s breath to hitch.  
“ _\- Of course things are different now with you here. But he adores you, I can tell. Even if he tries to pretend he doesn’t. With you he looks like we used to be… Himself, completely. I envy you a bit because of that, little love… But I think I missed my chance. Several of them. Shhh, don’t fuss now, shh…_ ”

Sherlock shut his eyes tight. Hearing John put words to those feelings that Sherlock could recognise in himself were a huge relief. Even if he wasn’t meant to hear any of it, it was lifting a stone from his chest and he felt he could breathe a little easier.

“ _I could always just tell him, but I doubt he’d believe me if I told him the truth. After all, I’ve hardly acted like I love him._ ”

John interrupted himself with a small, self-deprecating laugh, “ _but I do, Rosebud, I do. I just never… I’ve never been good with feelings like this when it comes to men. And that’s the normal men. He’s not normal, he’s so much more than that. Extraordinary. How do you tell someone that you love them, after you’ve… done bad things to them? He’d never believe me. He’d- he wouldn’t even want me._ ”  


It was hard to breathe. Sherlock was half convinced he was hearing things, or that it was about someone else. John was sounding a little hoarse now, the way he did when he was emotional but didn’t want to cry. Logical enough, he was trying to make Rosie sleep. Then a small, mirthless chuckle sounded through the monitor.

“ _Was I that boring to listen to?_ ” Then a sound followed that Sherlock decided must have been John getting up and making sure Rosie was tucked in. John would then turn to switch on the- “ _Shit!_ ”

 

Sitting completely still, barely breathing, Sherlock heard John’s careful but rushed footsteps come down the stairs. He’d seen the monitor was on, and he was probably going to see if Sherlock was in the room. And he was, Sherlock knew exactly what John would do. He’d stop in the door, petrified and pale faced as he would realise that the words he’d said when he thought nobody was listening had, in fact, been heard.

And John did exactly that. Sherlock didn’t even have to turn his head from the monitor to know he was right.

“Sherlock,” John’s voice was dripping with insecurity and fear. “Ah, I-“

Enough of that. Sherlock stood, and finally turned to John. His eyes were slightly red, but his posture was straight. He was ready to face whatever would happen next, even if he didn’t want to. Ever the soldier.

As he stood face to face with John, Sherlock refrained from reaching out of an irrational fear of shattering the moment.  
“Everything I ever did, from St. Barts to that mini fridge, was for you,” he said, barely above a whisper, “of course I want you. Obviously.”

In truth there were many things Sherlock Holmes could spend his evening on.

Out of all of them, finally kissing John Watson had been an unforeseen, although long awaited surprise.  

 


End file.
